


Not Okay

by Salemn



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Brotherly Love, Dewey Duck Has ADHD, Dewey Duck Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Family Feels, Loneliness, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Siblings, Running Away, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26171785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salemn/pseuds/Salemn
Summary: Dewey had never seen his brothers so angry. Not once, since he’d hatched moments between the two, had he ever seen them mad like this. No, not even mad—they were furious. Beyond mad, past angry. Completely furious.And this wasn’t like any other time they were angry when he could talk to them and help them solve whatever had frustrated them to the point of anger—he couldn’t because he was who they were mad at.Huey and Louie were furious athim.
Relationships: Dewey Duck & Donald Duck, Dewey Duck & Huey Duck, Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck, Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck & Webby Vanderquack, Dewey Duck & Louie Duck, Dewey Duck & Scrooge McDuck, Dewey Duck & Webby Vanderquack, Huey Duck & Louie Duck
Comments: 25
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, welcome! This is my first cartoon fic, but I'm not new to fanfic or Ao3. 
> 
> This is a runaway fic set after the Duck/McDuck/Vanderquack family returns from Castle McDuck. Only really spoilers for the episodes _The Spear of Selene_ and, _The Secret(s) of Castle McDuck!_ I just wanted to write some angst and emotional stuff, and this is what I came up with (plus, I'd be a bit madder if my sibling kept a secret like Dewey's Della Duck secret, than Huey and Louie were.)

Dewey had never seen his brothers so angry. Not once, since he’d hatched moments between the two, had he ever seen them mad like this. No, not even mad—they were furious. Beyond mad, past angry. Completely furious. 

And this wasn’t like any other time they were angry when he could talk to them and help them solve whatever had frustrated them to the point of anger—he couldn’t because he was who they were mad at. 

Huey and Louie were furious at _him_. 

He’d done something terrible, something horrible as he looked back now. He knew what he was doing and he’d known it was wrong. He’d known all along that he’d upset and anger his brothers by not telling them, but that hadn’t stopped him. 

And now... now he wasn’t sure he could see a way out of the mess he’d created.

* * *

Dewey really hadn’t meant to hold off on telling Huey and Louie everything he’d been learning about their mother. He wanted to keep it a secret until he had something solid to go off. Proof that he was making progress and finding things out about their mystery mother. 

He’d just always been curious about her, and well, Huey and Louie never really shared the same interest. Or, maybe not to the degree Dewey was curious. He knew they were curious too, but... it wasn’t the same kind of curious, he knew as much. 

He’d been the only one to go to Webby about their mother. If Huey and Louie were really interested in their mother like Dewey was, they would’ve been searching for secrets about her in the place that could possibly have all the answers too. 

Afterall, they’d all seen Webby’s investigation chart on her wall. Everyone was on it: the three of them, uncle Scrooge, uncle Donald, uncle Donald’s cousins; Gladstone and Fethry—heck, there’d been people on that chart who Dewey had never even heard of (but, well, to be fair he hadn’t known he was related to Scrooge McDuck until quite recently either). 

It only made sense that Webby would have gathered something about their mother if she had everything on them and uncle Donald. But she had nothing. Nothing but a single photo of their mother—and that was crazy, because Dewey knows that she and uncle Donald were close, and he had a feeling that uncle Scrooge was close to his mother as well. 

How was there no evidence that she’d even existed? Two photographs—one that Dewey had of their family; of he and his brothers as eggs, their mother and uncle Donald and uncle Scrooge all stood proudly behind them, and the photo of just Della Duck from Webby’s file—as well as that snapshot hung above the fireplace in McDuck Manor of uncle Donald, uncle Scrooge and Della, were not enough evidence to prove someone’s existence. 

There simply had to be more. There had to be more than three pictures documenting their mother’s existence. There had to be a reason why Dewey and his brothers knew relatively nothing about their mother. There was this whole big story being covered up that no one wanted to talk about—wanted to even acknowledge, but Dewey was invested. 

He hadn’t meant to keep everything for himself—or maybe he did. He didn’t know which it was—even if you asked him right now whether he really meant to keep his findings a secret for quite so long, he wouldn’t have an answer. 

He really couldn’t say. He couldn’t put it into words. 

There was just something about unearthing secrets slowly, and following leads that were a fifty-fifty chance between a new lead and their journey continuing on and a dead end leading back to the drawing board. 

Maybe he just liked that he was learning things about their mother that his brothers weren’t. That some sad part of him thought that learning these things, while his brothers remain oblivious, brought him closer to his mother. 

He clung to his own words promising himself that he would actually tell them sometime because he really did want to protect them. He knew that at first, when he and Webby first started uncovering things, that he really had kept the secret with the intention to protect Huey and Louie. 

He didn’t want to get Huey and Louie’s hope up without there being anything solid to share. And he truly believed he _would_ tell them. That when the time was right, he’d tell the everything. Involve them when it was safe to do so. 

He wanted to protect his brothers. It was one thing for him to be heartbroken over lack of findings, or worse, actually finding things, but it would’ve been another thing entirely for him to have to watch his older brother and their baby brother be heartbroken over their mother. 

Plus, things were being covered up for a reason, right? You don’t just randomly decide to make someone’s entire life disappear. To leave, as far as uncle Donald and uncle Scrooge know, one photo to prove Della Duck was a real person. Dewey had no clue if they knew that he and Webby both had a photo of Della Duck, it wasn’t something to flaunt when even the mention of their mother’s name made everyone tense up. 

And... what if... their mother had been bad? Had done bad things? And that’s why uncle Scrooge and uncle Donald never spoke of her—why they practically erased her from everything but those photos. He wasn’t about to let his brothers find out that their mother was a bad person. He wanted them to hold onto what little uncle Donald had told them of their mother, the sweet stories from their childhood and how much their mother loved them. 

He really was just trying to protect everyone... but he’d gone too far. 

He’d kept everything to himself for too long, and he knew far too much of their mother to not have told his brothers anything. His reasoning for keeping this to himself really didn’t even matter when it came down to it. Their mother was too much of a sensitive topic to be kept a secret from the other brothers. 

It really had only been a matter of time before they found out. Before the secret was out, and they knew what Dewey had been doing behind their backs. He’d been doing it for months too, which was even worse. 

Dewey expected negative reactions. He’d known his brothers for over eleven years—since they’d all hatched minutes apart. He knew them. He knew them well, probably better than he knew himself. 

But... he hadn’t been ready to face those emotions. He’d never seen either of them express such strong emotions. 

Dewey wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forget his brother’s faces, or their raw voices as they tried to hold themselves together. 

It had all happened to fast—Dewey had barely managed to catch a glance at the name stitched into the side of the bag ( _D. Duck_ ) before that huge demon dog was barging in and snarling angrily at them. He’d had to think fast as Huey plotted their escape, the bag and its contents to be destroyed along the way safety. 

Dewey couldn’t have that—not when he’d finally gotten his hands on something that belonged to his mom. It was one thing to see her photo on the crystal ball, or on the photos in the manor, but it was another entirely to hold her things in his hands. 

And he didn’t want to lose that. Not yet—maybe not ever. 

“Because it belongs to mom!” Dewey’s voice shook at his own outburst. He was afraid of Huey’s plan. He was afraid that something would happen to their mother’s possessions, when they had so little that belonged to Della Duck. 

It really hadn’t been the way Dewey wanted to clue his brothers in to what he’d been doing, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And that, was definitely a desperate cry of a boy who didn’t want to waste something important. Something that belonged to mom. 

“How do you know this is mom’s?” Huey demanded from the door. He’d gone to try and block it more, as the large demon hound scratched and pounced to get at them. 

Dewey drew in a nervous breath, looking between his brothers. He hadn’t... really planned far enough to have any sort of idea how to tell his brothers about this. 

“I’ve... uh, kinda been researching her on my own...” Dewey attempted trying to think his words out as best as he could given the impended doom on the other side of the door. “A little! I mean, I just... searched a forbidden library, crashed the Sunchaser, talked to the goddess Selene... okay...” Dewey drew in a breath, “You know, hearing it out loud, it comes off way worse than it sounded in my brain.” 

Dewey almost winced at the sharp snap of anger enveloping Huey’s usually calm and collected face, “How could you keep that from us?!” 

“I was trying to protect you from a potentially devastating revelation!” Dewey hurried to explain. It made sense in his head, but saying it out loud now, and seeing Huey’s expression darken and his eyes narrow in anger had him thinking differently. 

“Or you just kept it to yourself so you could feel special,” Huey growled, almost as scary as the beast on the other side of the door, “Classic Dewey. She’s our mom!” 

Dewey felt like he wanted to pull his hair out. This was not how he imagined telling his brothers about their mother. This was not how it was supposed to happen. 

“It’s just... First I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Dewey paused, chancing a look at Huey’s fuming expression, “then, I couldn’t tell you because I found all this stuff out and I didn’t want you to hurt me-” which really looked like a possible outcome at the moment, not that he’d mention it to Huey right now. 

Dewey squeezed his eyes shut before looking up at Huey once again, “I’m sorry, okay?” 

The anger behind his older brother’s eyes intensified his tone with the next words he spoke dropped to a low, angry hiss Dewey had never heard, nor ever expected from Huey, “you’re only sorry you got caught.” 

It was a punch to the gut. A weird, defensive annoyance bubbled up in Dewey. Maybe a defense mechanism to protect himself from Huey’s truth. That had been a punch to the gut because Huey wasn’t completely wrong. 

He was sorry he’d gotten caught. 

He was sorry he hadn’t gotten to tell his brothers the right way. He was sorry that he’d failed to stop them from finding the bag belonging to their mother. He was sorry they had to find out like this. He was so sorry. 

Mostly though, he was sorry he’d kept it from them. 

He couldn’t manage to say anything. There was nothing he could say to defend himself at this point. And Huey didn’t say anything either. He glared, lip curling in a snarl at his brother. 

A sniffle from across the room drew in Dewey’s attention, and Huey’s face softened as his eyes landed on Louie as well. Their youngest brother was cradling a jacket in his arms, devastation clouding his face. 

Louie was cradling their mother’s jacket in his arms, staring down at it. 

It made Dewey’s heart ache. To see Louie like that. To see Louie so sad, and fragile. 

“Louie...?” Dewey whispered, “you okay?” 

“You... you kept a secret about mom,” Louie’s attention drifted up to Dewey, tears collection at the corners of his eyes, “that is not okay.” 

For the first time since he’d started learning bits and pieces about their mom, since he’d started learning the truth about her and what happened to her, Dewey felt ashamed. He felt ashamed that he’d kept this from his brothers. He felt like scum because they were hurting now, and it was on him. 

He didn’t have much time to dwell on it though, because in the next moments, the demon dog burst through the door, throwing Huey back as the door slammed open, 

The scattered, each down a different corridor, and Dewey was the one the dog went after. He was scared, but at the same time, kind of felt like this was karma. He’d wronged his brothers, and now the demon guarding their mother’s possessions was going to eat him. 

He was honestly happy the mutt was after him, instead of one of his brothers. They didn’t deserve that, especially after what they’d just found out. 

Dewey wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to escape the catacombs unharmed. Nor how his brothers, who were breathing heavily, overexerted from running had made it out either. It seemed all three tunnels they’d gone down led to the same hallway in the castle. 

Dewey had never been happier to see his brothers but... 

The feeling wasn’t mutual if the scowl on Huey’s face, or Louie’s downcast eyes were anything to go by.

* * *

He’d been trying so hard to right his wrongs with his brothers. 

For days now. 

Nothing had improved. Huey and Louie said not a word to him. The painful silence ringing loudly in Dewey’s ears, leaving him ample time to think about what he’d done. To stew in his own mind, and emotions of just how terrible he’d been to his brothers. 

They were so mad at him... Betrayed and angry. They avoided him; moving away when he sat anywhere near them, breezing right past him in the halls, refusing to even glance at him during tense family meals. His brothers had even gone as far as to sleep in the lounge instead of in their bedroom the first two nights after returning home from uncle Scrooge’s parent’s home. 

They barely acknowledged his existence. 

Dewey received nothing more than a glance from either brother, and even then, it never seemed to linger. Huey was far angrier than Louie, looking away with a scowl whenever Dewey caught his eye, and Louie, whenever he happened to glance at Dewey, always looked away sharply, features crumpling sadly. 

The silent treatment was almost maddening for a duckling who’d grown up with two brothers. For a guy who’d been wedged between an older and a younger brother for eleven years. Dewey had always had one of his brothers to talk to, or seek comfort from. 

But now he felt more alone than ever before in his life. He really did feel like he’d gone invisible and his brothers couldn’t even see him sometimes. 

And in this house, it was entirely possible too. 

If it weren’t for his uncles and Webby seeing and speaking to him—noticing him, Dewey would’ve actually believed he had gone invisible somehow. 

Honestly though, he wished he had gone invisible—or he wished that the ground would swallow him up. Dewey had never really gotten silence like this from his brothers and it was... well, it was kind of scary, really. 

Sure, he’d made mistakes and goofed up before—way more times than he could count—but... Huey and Louie have never stayed mad this long. They’ve never gone more than a single day without talking to him and forgiving him for one reason or another. 

And Dewey knows he made a huge mistake this time. The biggest mistake of his life. He knows he should never have kept what he was figuring out about their mother a secret. Della Duck was their mom, she was all three of their moms. Dewey had kept things from them, and, as Louie said, _that is not okay_. 

Dewey’s not sure he could ever get the look of utter betrayal in Louie’s eyes out of his mind, or ever stop hearing a ghosted version of his voice, as it shook as he whispered those words of heartbreak. He never wanted to even see Louie like that, let alone be the one to cause it. 

Everyone wanted to know what was wrong. Well, except Webby, who had a pretty good understanding of the situation, not that she’d really say anything regarding the triplet’s personal situations. She really had tried to prevent it, so Dewey was glad that Huey and Louie weren’t mad at her like they were at him. Webby was a good friend that way. 

But everyone else was curious. Not really enough so to say anything yet. Uncle Donald liked them to try and sort their own problems out first, and only really got in the middle of it if he and his brothers got to loud, or got physical. They were brothers after all, not everything could end perfectly with words when a shove or a tackle got the message across way better. 

Besides, Huey and Louie obviously didn’t want anyone else involved, since they hadn’t bothered talking to uncle Donald about Dewey keeping secrets about their mom from them. Dewey wasn’t sure if he was happy or upset about that. 

Dewey was sure if uncle Donald knew the details, he’d be able to help work things out between the three of them. But Dewey himself wasn’t going to say anything if Huey and Louie hadn’t. He’d already wronged his brothers in the worst way possible, and there was no way he’d be doing anything that could possibly make his brothers angrier with him. 

He way trying to dig himself out of the hole he’d put himself in, not make it deeper. 

But nothing was working. 

No amount of talking, or persuading, or gushing about their mother and finally sharing what Dewey knew got them to talk, or even acknowledge he was even stood or sat beside them. 

And even when Dewey had tried to share the memory crystal ball with the two of them, Huey had scowled deeply, stood and walked away without a work. Louie had stood blankly for a second, before he glanced between the ball in Dewey’s hands and the doorway Huey had left through. Before Dewey could say another word, his brother in green was turning on his heels and following Huey away. 

They ignored every attempt. Every plea. 

Walked away from the table when Dewey had attempted to make them breakfast one morning, left their room without a word when Dewey had cleaned the whole room (which included making each of their beds), turned on their feels and leaving when Dewey suggested the three of them go to Funso’s and spend Dewey’s allowance on anything the two of them wanted. 

Nothing worked. 

Dewey was starting to get nervous. 

If they haven’t forgiven him yet, will they ever? Had he really ended the relationship he had with his brothers over one stupid (humongous) secret? 

Dewey didn’t know what he’d do if he lost his brothers like this. If there would always be so close like they were, but he couldn’t touch them. 

Maybe it was time to get his uncle involved. 

Dewey was so far out of his league with this problem. He’d already made so many bad choices, and he really couldn’t see a way out of this without someone on his side. Without someone in his corner, who had his back. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so alone. 

With that, Dewey pulled himself off where he’d been thoughtfully trying to nap away his troubles. He hadn’t, of course, not when his mind was constantly thinking about his brothers and ways to fix this. He hadn’t actually slept the full night since before Huey and Louie found out. 

Dewey was silent as he left the room, trailing through the halls of McDuck manor without drawing in any attention. He could hear Mrs. Beakley cooking in the kitchen as he passed by and he heard uncle Scrooge and Webby talking in the man’s office as he walks past. 

He had no idea where Huey or Louie were, not that they’d told him anything recently. He assumed they were out, because the halls were way to quiet. 

He knew uncle Donald would be on the house boat, where he always was when he wasn’t busy taking care of the three of them, or adventuring nervously with the group. So, that’s where Dewey headed. 

He wasn’t nervous to talk to uncle Donald—or, well, maybe he was a bit. Just the part about secret searching for his mother and keeping his brothers out of the loop. But he wasn’t nervous about going into the boat, since it had been home for eleven years. It still was home, because that’s where uncle Donald lived. And he was the glue that held their strange little family together. 

Dewey easily made his way onto the boat. He walked quietly fiddling with his own fingers down the stairs into the living part of the boat, where he froze abruptly at the voices inside the house. 

“I just don’t understand what’s going on with the three of you,” uncle Donald sighed. He sounded tired—just about as tired as Dewey felt. 

“It’s brother stuff,” he heard Huey’s calm voice next. “You wouldn’t understand anyways, uncle Donald.” 

“I might,” his uncle tried, “you boys have never fought like this before. I’m getting worried now.” 

Neither of his brothers said a word. Dewey’s heart was pounding in his chest. He could only imagine the impassive looks on both of his brother’s faces. He could imagine them, simply because it was usually him there too, face expression identical to his brothers. 

“Look boys,” uncle Donald continued when he got nothing but silence, “I know I don’t know the details, but none of you three are alright. Dewey did something wrong; I don’t know what, and I won’t ask because it’s clear neither of you will give me an answer-” Dewey could almost imagine his brothers glancing at each other in sync before turning their attention back on their uncle, “-but he’s still your brother. At some point, you two are going to have to forgive him.” 

“Dewford is no brother of mine.” 

Dewey’s breath stuttered and if felt like his heart stopped in his chest. His hand slipped to the wall behind him for support, praying his hand hadn’t made a slapping sound as his other hand slammed over his mouth to keep himself from making any sounds. 

“Llewellyn Duck!” uncle Donald gasped his own version of the offended surprise tightening Dewey’s own chest. 

How could... Louie said... Louie had never said anything like that before. None of them had. There was a line none of them ever crossed, no matter how angry they were. But Louie... Louie had. And those words broke Dewey’s heart more than everything his younger brother had ever said to hurt him smashed together. 

“I’m sorry uncle Donald,” that was Huey, not Louie, “but Louie’s right. We can’t forgive him. Not this time.” 

Dewey doesn’t bother hanging around on the stairs a moment longer. Any thoughts of possibly talking to uncle Donald had disappeared seconds after his heart had split into two. 

He’s sure he’s crying now. It’s about time—he'd wanted to cry since seeing all the emotions on his brother’s faces when they finally learned the truth. He hadn’t cried over the situation yet. He wasn’t usually the emotional brother, but he did have emotions. He just... didn’t share them. Not with anyone who wasn’t his close family. 

_Dewford is no brother of mine._

Dewey dragged a rough palm down his cheeks, smearing the running tears into his skin. He tried to even his breath, not wanting to cry loud enough to attract anyone’s attention. The last thing he needed right now was to have Webby, or Mrs Beakley—or worse, uncle Scrooge on his case. 

His attempts to wipe the tears away were futile, it did nothing to stop more from falling, and it didn’t really make him feel any better. He really didn’t even care about his appearance as he sniffled his way into the manor. 

It was still quiet in the manor, Webby and Scrooge were no longer talking, and any cooking noises in the kitchen had been covered by the faucet running. 

He slips up the stairs unnoticed, closing himself in the suddenly eerie silence of his and his brother’s bedroom. Nothing had really changed since he was last here ten minutes ago, but it still felt different. 

Dewey crawls dejectedly into his middle bunk, curling pathetically into his blankets. He reaches a blanket covered hand up, dragging a fist over his raw tear stained cheeks. His eyes hurt, and his brain hurts, but his heart hurts the most. 

It was a kind of pain Dewey had never felt before. A lonely kind of pain, to hear his brothers say things like that. To hear them say he wasn’t their brother. It had always been the three of them. Huey, Dewey and Louie against the world. Through thick and thin, because they were brothers. They were the only family they’d really had, besides uncle Donald. 

And it was a punch to the gut that his brothers were mad enough to want to disown him.

* * *

It’s been just a week of radio silence from Huey and Louie. 

A week solid of Dewey talking to fill the silence in their room, and chasing his brothers from rooms simply by trying to talk to them and get them to forgive him. A week of the three of them awkwardly falling asleep in complete silence, instead of the tired bickering and chatting it had been before his stupid mistake. 

It’s been a week, and Dewey misses his brothers. They’re so close... but they’re so far at the same time. 

He’s not sure how much longer he can take them seeing him, their eyes landing on him, but them looking right passed him. Or to hear them quietly conversing between the two of them, but their conversation drops as soon as Dewey says anything or gets too close. 

It’s not fair, Dewey thinks. 

He knows he did something bad. He’s very aware, and he’s been punished by them. He’d been punishing himself. However mad his brothers are at him, he’s one-hundred times madder at himself. Hasn’t he been punished enough? It’s been a _week_ now. 

It’s not fair that they’re taking away the only thing he’s known his whole life. That they’re taking themselves away when they’ve been by Dewey’s side since hatching. He loves his brothers more than anything. They’ve been the only constant in his life—the only ones who really understand him. Understand what he’s-- they’re all-- going through. 

It’s too quiet without them. 

It’s too lonely without them. 

It’s just not _fair_. 

Dewey sat silently on the stairs. He hadn’t really seen anyone today. And it was the loneliest Dewey had really ever felt. 

Louie was sick. He’d gotten a cold the past morning, so he was in the house boat with uncle Donald for the day. Louie always liked to be coddled and taken care of when he was sick, and uncle Donald was always completely over-protective when any of his nephews were ill of any sort. 

As far as he knew, from over hearing conversations, Huey and Webby had gone out to do some research under the pretense that they’d be at Funso’s. 

Uncle Scrooge was at McDuck Enterprises, probably taking a dive in his coins or sitting through a boring meeting. Dewey wasn’t really sure what his great uncle usually did, but that was what he liked to think uncle Scrooge did. 

Even Mrs. Beakley was gone. Gone to who knows where, leaving Dewey alone in the manor. 

And it gave Dewey time to think. 

Or, maybe time to wallow in self-pity. 

They didn’t need him. Not really. 

No one had spoken to him for twenty-four hours at least, and life seemed to be going on just fine. No one was seeking him out, no one’s lives had been disturbed at all. Everything fell perfectly into place... but he wasn’t needed for that to happen. 

It was a strange thought, that the world would continue to revolve without him. It was strange to think that his family didn’t really need him, not like he needed them. That his brothers would be fine without him—they might even be _happy_ about it considering their circumstances. 

Dewey crossed his arms over his knees, dropping his chin onto his forearms with a sigh. 

What was the point of staying around? What was the point of staying here with brothers who... didn’t even really want him? Was there a point? 

Would they... even miss him? 

Probably not. Huey and Louie would always have each other, and they’d have uncle Donald, and uncle Scrooge and Webby and Mrs. Beakley. They’d be fine without him. They have been for a week now. Honestly, from this point, what would really change in the manor if Dewey left? 

He wasn’t needed here. 

He wasn’t the brains, or the charming sweet-talker. He wasn’t the protective older brother, or the clever and cunning younger brother. He was just the duckling to hatch between the two. 

He was just Dewey. 

Dewey who got in the way, who got too excited about things and who dragged his brothers into trouble. Dewey who kept secrets from his family. Who kept secrets about his family, from his family. 

He didn’t want to stay—he couldn’t _manage_ to stay—somewhere where he needed them more than they needed him. Dewey couldn’t handle this weird walking on eggshells thing going on. He either wanted all of his brothers, or none of them. He couldn’t be here and watch them hate him. 

And, well, if they didn’t really need him, if they’d been getting along fine without him currently, what was keeping him here? 

Absolutely nothing.

* * *

It was late that evening. Really late. Everyone had returned home as usual. Going about their evenings before gathering for dinner. 

Dewey had joined everyone for dinner, as usual. He picked away at his food, half listening to everyone’s days. No one drew him into conversation. Dewey’s silence wasn’t really questioned, since all three triplets had been weird since returning from uncle Scrooge’s parent’s home. 

Bedtime followed like usual. Both Louie and Huey turned in earlier than usual, since Louie was a bit sick still, and Huey was exhausted from his day out with Webby. 

Uncle Donald peeked his head in to say good night to the three of them, as usual, before returning to the house boat for the night. 

It really didn’t take long for Huey’s breaths above him to even out as he fell asleep, and following that, Louie’s breath settled to the usual soft, congested snore that all three of them had whenever they were sick. 

Dewey laid for a second longer, staring up at the bottom of Huey’s bed as he listened to the noises his brothers made while they were asleep. The familiar, comforting noises he’d grown up with. 

When he felt ready, he pushed his own covers off, sitting with his blankets pooled in his lap for a moment. He slipped from the bed silently, peeking at his brother’s sleeping faces. 

Huey completely relaxed above him, cuddled into his covers with his hat hung on the bedpost. Louie wasn’t as relaxed, but he was obviously sound asleep. His breaths weren’t as even, since he was sick, but he was just as asleep as Huey. 

It almost made Dewey smile, how peaceful his siblings looked. He didn’t though. 

Instead, he turned on his heel, and grabbed his backpack from under their desk. He’d packed it earlier when he had the house to himself. There wasn’t a lot to bring, not really. 

A couple changes of clothes, a pair of pajamas. His allowance, which no one had wanted to join him to spend. He brought a water bottle, and even managed to snag a whole box of granola bars. He also had a flash light he’d found in a kitchen drawer that he’d found while he searched through for snacks. 

He’d never run away before, so he really didn’t know what to bring. 

As a last thought, he slipped on his winter coat and his snow hat from the closet before pulling his backpack on. 

It was already starting to get colder outside, as the summer swiftly transitioned to autumn, and before long it would be winter and snowy. So, it was best to sweat for a bit now, instead of not having his warm clothes when he needed them. 

Lastly, Dewey arranged his bedding, halfheartedly attempting to make his bed, but instead only managed to rumple his blankets more than before. He sighed to himself before finally slipping his cell phone from his pocket. He fiddled with the device in his hands for a second before placing it on his pillow. 

He wouldn’t need that. Plus, phones have trackers, and he’s sure Huey, or Webby, or even uncle Scrooge and his teams of smarties could manage to track him with it. That is if they even notice he’s missing. 

With that settled, Dewey gave each of his brothers one last glance before finally slipping out their bedroom door. He’d waited long enough for the rest of the family to be asleep, or already retiring to their bedrooms for the evening, so Dewey was sneaking through the pitch-black corridors. 

He slipped out the manor front door without making a noise, closing it softly behind him. 

A breeze swept around him, making him shiver abruptly. It wouldn’t stop him though. With a final look back at the house, at _home_ , Dewey was off down the path. All he’d need to do was jump the fence and... well, start his new life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome back! 
> 
> This chapter we'll be taking a little look at the other side of the story, because there's always at least two sides to an argument. Only mentions of Dewey in this chapter, sorry :(
> 
> Enjoy!

“What are you boys up to?” Huey looked up from his snack, glancing at Louie momentarily before finally setting his attention on uncle Donald. The older of the three of them was leaning against the doorframe, frowning in a way that made Huey know they were in for some kind of talk. 

He was a bit surprised it had taken this long for uncle Donald to bring it up actually. 

“Just having a snack,” Huey informed softly, though he knew it was really obvious, “then we’re going to head to Funso’s to play around for a bit, right, Louie?” 

“Yeah,” Louie grinned, “we’re gonna get drinks and then Huey and I are going to play some games. See who can get the most tickets with our allowance.” 

“What about Dewey?” Donald asked slowly, eyeing the two thoughtfully. 

“What about him?” Louie mumbled, attention swiftly dropping down to his bowl. 

“Boys...” 

“No,” Huey shook his head. “We’re fine. Everything’s fine.” 

“That’s not true, and we all know it,” Donald spoke, voice calm as his attention drifted between the two. “Come with me, we’re going to have a little talk in the house boat if you two want to leave the house today.” 

“What?” Louie groaned, “come on, uncle Donald. We were just about to leave--” 

“No whining,” the man huffed, “up you both get. Come on.” 

Huey exchanged a glance with his youngest brother before the two of them stood. Huey grabbed both their bowls and set them in the sink, before letting himself be ushered along beside Louie by uncle Donald. 

The walk out to the pool was quiet, Huey walked swiftly, almost like he was leading Louie and uncle Donald along, while Louie trailed a step slower than him with his head ducked and his hands shoved in his pocket. 

The duckling in red was sure that uncle Donald was scrutinizing them as they walked, trying to pick them, and their movements apart as a way to figure out the problem without speaking. 

That never worked. 

When the stepped out to the pool, uncle Donald took the lead, with the two boys following behind. He led them into the house and gestured parental like to the couch, where the two of them collapsed and waited for whatever stern talking to this was about. 

No one said anything for a moment. Huey wasn’t about to start a conversation he didn’t even want to have, and Louie would only be scolded if he spoke one of his sarcastic remarks right now. 

They were waiting for uncle Donald to make the first move, like he always did when something was wrong. But surprisingly, he didn’t right away. 

He seemed to stew over what he wanted to say, and how he wanted to go about whatever he was about to bring up. Huey couldn’t help but think that uncle Donald looked uncomfortable in the same way he, and he was sure Louie as well, felt. 

“Something obviously happened,” uncle Donald started slowly, sitting on the coffee table in front of where the two of them had leaned back into the couch. “Something happened, and it affected the two of you—the three of you really.” 

“Something happened,” Huey gave a small, confirming nod. He didn’t offer anything else, which made his uncle’s face scrunch up as he huffed a breath, but he really wasn’t sure what to add. 

They couldn’t tell the man that they were mad that Dewey had been keeping secrets about their mom to their uncle who probably know what happened and had worked hard to keep everything a secret. Plus, the last thing they needed right now was for uncle Donald to be upset with them all that they’d (Dewey) had been looking into mom. They’d all get lumped into the same punishment, even if he, and Louie, hadn’t even done anything, because that’s how being a triplet worked in most cases. 

“Something did happen,” Louie turned his head a bit, looking away from Huey and uncle Donald towards the wall where a couple photos of the three of them and uncle Donald had been framed and hung. Huey had half a mind to reach over and pat his brother’s knee for comfort, but that would stress uncle Donald out completely. 

Stressing uncle Donald out right now would just be more of a hassle for he and Louie, and Dewey too. 

“I just don’t understand what’s going on with the three of you,” uncle Donald sighed finally after another moment of silence. He looked tired as his form slumped down a little, thumb and middle finger coming up to rub at his eyes. 

“It’s brother stuff,” Huey tried to explain without explaining. An excuse he could give without letting uncle Donald in too much. “You wouldn’t understand anyways, uncle Donald.” 

“I might,” their uncle tried, he looked hopeful, and determined, “you boys have never fought like this before. I’m getting worried now.” 

Huey didn’t want to admit that he was worried too. They really had never fought like this—but none of them had ever kept something from the others like Dewey had. Huey didn’t know how to feel, or how he could look at his middle brother without being angry with him. 

Huey glanced over at Louie, studying the impassive look on his face that probably matched his own identically. Huey chose not to say anything, and Louie beside him also chose to stay silent. 

Uncle Donald sighed, reaching a hand up to run through his hair before leaning forwards and settling his elbows on his knees. 

“Look boys,” uncle Donald continued when he got nothing but silence, “I know I don’t know the details, but none of you three are alright. Dewey did something wrong; I don’t know what, and I won’t ask because it’s clear neither of you will give me an answer-” Huey glanced over at Louie, only to see his youngest brother glancing at him as well. The two turned back to uncle Donald almost in sync, “-but he’s still your brother. At some point, you two are going to have to forgive him.” 

“Dewford is no brother of mine.” 

Huey turned suddenly to Louie. He really hadn’t expected that. Louie wasn’t looking at him, or uncle Donald. His eyes were focused on the photos on the wall once again. He looked angry, but his tone had been pretty neutral. An indifference that only Louie could pull off. 

It was weird seeing Louie so fed up, since he was usually the calm, easy going one of the three of them. Huey really couldn’t believe he’d said that, and he really couldn’t believe he’d said it in front of _uncle Donald_. That was just a lecture waiting to happen. 

“Llewellyn Duck!” Huey’s attention snapped from blinking blankly to Louie to uncle Donald’s disappointed expression. His tone was a mix of hurt and disappointment. Maybe there was some frustration somewhere in there too, but Huey really couldn’t place all the emotions crossing his uncle’s face. Huey winced to himself, mostly on Louie’s behalf. 

“I’m sorry uncle Donald,” Huey said softly to try and diffuse the situation, even if just a bit, “but Louie’s right. We can’t forgive him. Not this time...” Louie looked slowly up at him, and Huey couldn’t help but miss Dewey a bit. It just wasn’t the same the two of them, and it probably never would be, “not... not yet at least.” 

Uncle Donald’s eyes softened as Huey’s hand finally settled on Louie’s knee. His youngest brother shifted a bit closer to him, anger fizzling out to the same betrayed sadness he’d had in the catacombs. 

“Dewey he... he did something that hurt us,” Huey began, searching for ways to make their uncle understand, “we can’t... it’s not easy to forgive him just yet. We’re trying though.” 

Uncle Donald sighed again, inching towards the edge of the table so he was just a bit closer, “I know this is hard,” he mumbled, “I know you two are upset, but you can’t say things like that.” 

He paused, a distant look clouding his eyes as he continued on, “you never know what might be the last thing you say or do to someone. You never know what might happen. You just... you can’t say things like that, alright?” 

Louie’s eyes dropped to his lap and he sniffled, “I... I’m sorry uncle Donald. I was just mad.” 

“I forgive you,” uncle Donald lifted Louie’s chin up with his fingers and gave him a small smile, “but it’s not okay, okay?” 

“Okay.” Louie sniffled again, “I won’t say anything like that again. I didn’t mean it; Dewey will always be my brother and... and I love him. I’m just mad at him right now.” 

“Good,” uncle Donald gave a small nod before sliding back again, “you’re allowed to be mad. Both of you are, but you do have to remember he’s your brother. I get siblings fight, but you... you have to hold onto them, alright?” 

“Alright,” Louie and Huey both responded immediately. 

“We’ll try to forgive him,” Huey promised their uncle, “but... but maybe not right away. We will forgive him though.” 

“That’s all I can ask,” uncle Donald frowned, reaching down to set a comforting hand on each of their knees. His hand settled half on top of Huey’s hand still on Louie’s knee, which was nice, “I don’t think he meant to hurt you two—but I don’t know the details of this.” 

“He... he didn’t do it on purpose, I don’t think,” Louie whispered after a second. His own hand settled over top of uncle Donald’s and he stared down at where all three of their hands sat, “but that doesn’t change what he did.” 

“It doesn’t,” uncle Donald agreed, and Huey was a bit surprised to hear their uncle say that, “but it does mean he’s probably beating himself up too. He’s probably just as angry with himself as you two are angry at him.” 

“Maybe,” Huey frowned thoughtfully. 

“Anyways,” uncle Donald cleared his throat, slipping his hand away from theirs and standing up, “I kept you long enough. The two of you are free to head to Funso’s now.” 

“Okay, uncle Donald,” the murmured in sync once more.

* * *

“Don’t you guys think that... maybe you’re being too hard on Dewey?” 

Huey looked up at Webby abruptly, and Louie almost looked offended where he was sitting on his bottom bunk. 

“What?” Louie furrowed his eyebrows, coughing into the inside of his elbow before crossing his arms across his chest. 

“Well,” the girl narrowed her eyes, shifting them between the two of them, “he made a mistake—and I don’t condone that—I mean, I do condone mistakes, of course, they’re totally okay— I meant that I don’t condone that he didn’t tell you guys. I told him he should’ve told you guys about your mom when we started figuring things out, but... hasn’t it been a bit too long now?” 

“No,” Huey rolled his eyes, “it hasn’t been long enough—wait a minute, you _knew_?” 

“Of course I knew,” Webby looked offended, but it faded away to hesitation after only a second, “wait... did you guys _not_ know I knew?” 

“We did not,” Louie groaned from the bed, “that’s just great, another secret kept by our brother.” 

“I’m sorry,” Webby frowned, “I thought you guys knew.” 

“You thought wrong,” Huey sighed, moving to sit beside Louie on Louie’s bottom bunk. He let his upper body fall backwards onto the mattress and Louie pulled his legs up to wrap his arms around them. He coughed once more, then let his chin drop onto his knees. Huey continued on after a second when he noticed their friend shifting antsy-like off to the side of the room, “It’s alright, Webby.” 

Huey wasn’t really upset that Webby knew. It was still upsetting that Webby knew before Huey and Louie, but they could live with it. Besides, that just gave them someone they could talk about it with and not have to explain everything. 

No one said anything, but Huey could see Webby bouncing anxiously from foot to foot in his peripheral vision. She was scared, Huey could tell. She’d never had a sibling quarrel like this before, but this was a usual for he and his brothers—well, maybe not the week of silence thing. 

“He really did have good intentions,” she said softly into the silence of the room, “I know that doesn’t really make it better, but he didn’t keep it a secret just because.” 

“How so?” Huey asked, not bothering to pull himself up. He just stared absently at the bottom of Dewey’s bed. 

“He didn’t want either of you to get hurt,” Webby sat in the desk chair, wheeling it towards the bed and settling just beside the bunkbeds, “he was adamant about that. He didn’t want to get your guy’s hopes up when there was so much unknown about the situation. He was really scared that your mother did something bad... that she betrayed your uncles. I’d never seen Dewey so nervous.” 

Neither Louie or Huey said anything, and after a second, Webby continued. 

“I know he did it wrong. We should’ve told you guys as soon as we started learning about the Spear of Selene, or when we returned from Ithaquack after meeting the Goddess Selene--” 

“You met the goddess Selene?” Louie blinked in surprise. 

“Yeah,” Webby grinned, then sobered with a grimace and shook her head, “but that’s beside the point.” 

“Of course it is,” Huey gave a good-natured laugh. “Continue as you were, Webby.” 

“Right,” Webby nodded, “as I was saying, Dewey did have your guy’s feelings in mind. I wanted him to tell you guys but... I’ve never had siblings, so I didn’t know. I can see him not wanting to tell you guys though I’d want to protect my brothers too—it’s hard because I understand everyone’s point of view, from Dewey wanting to protect you two, to the both of you being upset and angry at not being told.” 

Huey finally sat up, studying his friend thoughtfully. 

“I... I wasn’t there with you guys in the Castle McDuck catacombs, and I probably shouldn’t have been anyways, so I don’t know what happened... but I do know the Dewey you went in with was not the Dewey you came out with.” 

“We found mom’s bag,” Huey whispered, “with her jacket, her scarf and her aviator hat with goggles... We didn’t know it was mom’s stuff until Dewey told us. I...” Huey swallowed, “I was going to burn them to distract the demon dog guarding the catacombs.” 

“We... we were mad at him,” Louie continued, clearing his throat and sniffling, “we were so mad. And then we all split up to escape and when we all made it out, we were still so mad at him. Haven’t talked to him since.” 

“It’s almost been a week though,” Webby blinked. 

“Or, we could look at it like it’s _only_ been a week,” Louie shrugged, leaning back against the bedpost. He rubbed the sleeve of his sweatshirt against his nose and sniffled once more. “You can’t tell us that Dewey didn’t royally screw up. We have a right to be mad at him. It’s our _mom_ , Webby.” 

“You do, you do,” Webby promised, “and he did mess up pretty bad, just... I don’t know,” the girl sighed, looking down and playing with her own fingers. “It doesn’t feel right, I guess.” 

“What do you mean?” Huey tilted his head, scooting to the edge of Louie’s bed. 

“Well... you two have each other, right? Dewey doesn’t. He’s alone in this, the two of you aren’t talking to him, and your uncles are busy. That leaves me’n’Granny, but she’s busy too. I try, you know? I try to talk to him, but... I don’t think I’m really what he’s looking for.” 

“Dewey loves you though,” Huey informed just incase she didn’t know, “we all do, you’re practically our sister.” 

“You are our sister,” Louie added softly. 

“I know he does—you guys do—and it means a lot to have brothers like you guys,” Webby gave a nod with a small smile, “but I’m not what he needs. He loves me, but not like he loves you two.” 

“It’s just... it’s hard,” Louie whispered. 

“I know,” Webby sighed, “but take it from a girl who grew up in this manor alone, alright? It sucks to have no one to talk to. And when Granny was busy, it was... I had no one. It’s the worst, because now that I’ve had you three, I know what I was missing. Dewey always had you guys, but now he doesn’t, you know?” 

Huey sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes and down his cheeks. He hadn’t really thought about it like that. About how Dewey must be feeling after a week of silent treatment when he’d been used to chatter and bickering for his whole life. And he really hadn’t taken the time to think about how lonely Webby had to have been before they moved in. 

“I’m sorry Webby,” Huey stood, moving across the room to lean down and hug her, “this must be hard for you too, since you’ve never... been around for a fight like this. They do occasionally happen between siblings.” 

“Don’t apologize to me,” Webby gave a watery laugh, reaching up to return the hug, “I just want us all to be good again. I don’t like you guys being angry at each other. It’s not worth it.” 

“Yeah,” Louie shook his head with a sigh, “we don’t like being angry at him either, I miss him and his stupid adventure drive, and the dumb things he says... but we can’t just forgive him right away.” 

“He really hurt us,” Huey continued, “it’s always been the three of us, and we’ve always told each other everything. Then he just... he starts keeping things from us. And about mom too.” 

“Every time I see him, I just get mad all over again looking at his stupid face,” Louie admitted playfully with a smile. He was trying to lighten the mood just a little bit. 

Huey snorted a laughed, because he agreed with Louie’s sentiment. Seeing Dewey was a reminder of what he’d done. Just when Huey thought he could forgive his middle brother, he looked at Dewey’s face and was suddenly mad again. 

“Uhm, Louie?” Webby held back a laugh. When the youngest triplet turned towards her, Webby continued, “you do know the three of you have the same face, right?” 

Louie froze for a second before he was sputtering halfhearted attempts of denial. Huey laughed openly at Louie, and even Webby was chuckling along. Louie was smiling, trying not to laugh himself. He cleared his throat, evening his voice and trying not to laugh as he spoke, “fine, his... his stupid _hair_ then, happy?” 

“That’s better,” Webby giggled. 

It was nice that they could just laugh now. That they could joke around after a tense week of no one knowing what to say or do. It was nice hearing everyone laugh, and be happy, but Huey couldn’t help but miss one laugh. 

It really wasn’t the same without his younger brother.

* * *

“Do you think we’ve been too hard on Dewey?” 

Huey could almost feel Louie’s confused gaze staring up at him through both Dewey and Huey’s own bunks. It was quiet in their room, both he and Louie decided to turn in early after each having long days. It was a bit after dinner, but Huey and Webby had been busy all day, and Louie was still getting over his cold. 

Dewey was who knows where, avidly avoiding them as he had for the past couple days. It was quiet without him, and Huey was starting to miss the stupid things he said, and his natural ability to draw they both of them into dumb conversations. 

“I don’t know,” Louie whispered below him, “do you think we’ve been?” 

“I didn’t,” Huey admits, “before, at least, but...” he sighs, pulling his covers up a bit, “I don’t know. Maybe Webby and uncle Donald are right?” 

“I was so mad, Huey,” Louie mumbles, “he kept things about mom from us... I never thought he would’ve kept something like that from us, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Huey blinks at the ceiling, “I never thought he would either.” 

There was a pause where neither spoke. Huey listened to Louie’s congested breaths below him. 

“But... I kinda understand where he’s coming from—” Huey continued, “with the wanting to protect us part.” Louie didn’t say anything, so Huey continued, “I’d want to make sure you and Dewey were okay too... and, well, it would’ve sucked if we found out mom did something bad.” 

“Like stealing the Spear of Selene from uncle Scrooge?” 

“Yeah, like stealing the Spear of Selene from uncle Scrooge,” Huey sighed. He adjusted himself, fluffing his pillow a bit before sinking into it once more. “I just... I don’t know why he did it. Or, why he did it like that. Why didn’t he tell us while we were at Castle McDuck? While we were searching the catacombs following mom’s clues.” 

“He really didn’t want us to follow those clues. He’s so stupid, what if he was alone when the demon dog came after us?” 

“I don’t know,” Huey frowned. He didn’t even want to think about it. It was bad enough that the dog went after Dewey when they split up, but what if he’d been cornered in the room with it? The thing about triplets is that there was three of them, three of them with different thought processes, and they were quite good at scattering when things got dangerous. It always confused people (and animals) which gave them a bit more time to escape. 

Had Dewey been alone, he wouldn’t have had that privilege and Huey refused to think about what could’ve happened to Dewey had he and Louie not been around. 

“I think... he was really trying to protect us,” Louie started softly, “but he didn’t, he didn’t do it right. And that sucks because we’re supposed to be a team, aren’t we?” 

“We’ve been a team since day one,” Huey reminded, “he only screwed up a bit, and... and it snowballed, right? He said that he was finding little things like the picture of mom Webby had, and the letter from mom to uncle Scrooge. And then suddenly he, and Webby, were making a lot of progress, and I think he got overwhelmed.” 

“That does sound like Dewey,” Louie snorted below him. Huey smiled lightly, turning onto his side and facing the wall. There was another moment of silence before Louie’s soft voice broke it, “that doesn’t mean I’m not upset still though.” 

“Me neither,” Huey promised, “but we shouldn’t be dragging this out as long as we have, or be so hard on him. Webby was right, the longest any of us has gone without talking to the others is a day tops. It has been a week after all. He made a mistake.” 

“I guess,” Louie whispered, sniffling softly. “He’s been different.” 

“I know,” Huey gave a drawn-out sigh, “he hasn’t even tried to talk to me since he tried to show us the crystal ball. It’s weird for him to be so quiet, and for so long too.” 

“He hasn’t talked to me either,” Louie agreed, “he was trying so hard in the beginning, and then he just stopped. That’s not like Dewey, has he ever just given up?” 

“Not that I remember,” Huey shrugged where he was laying, shaking the bunk beds slightly. “I say we forgive him tomorrow- or, at least start talking to him again. I kind of want to know everything he learned, and we should probably listen to the full story. We owe him that, he’s been trying to explain himself all week.” 

“Yeah,” Louie’s voice replied, “yeah, I agree. I’ve missed talking to him. Laughing at the weird things he says. No one makes me laugh like Dewey does.” 

“Yeah,” Huey laughed lightly. 

It was then, the door creaked open and Dewey slipped silently into the room. Huey shifted to watch his middle brother move silently around the room before Dewey crawled into his bed without even changing into pajamas. The bunks shifted and creaked as Dewey arranged himself in the middle bunk before the room settled into a calm silence. 

Finally, before Huey managed to drift to sleep, uncle Donald peeked into the room to say goodnight, to which Huey and Louie both sleepily returned the sentiment. Dewey remained silent, which, as of current, wasn’t out of the ordinary. 

Huey fell asleep listening to Louie’s evened out, congested breaths.

* * *

That next morning, Huey slipped from his bed just as Louie was shoving his covers off. Huey glanced at his still sleeping brother, the covers pulled up all the way to the pillow. He wasn’t going to wake Dewey if he was asleep still, not since he was sure Dewey wasn’t really sleeping. 

He was usually the first awake, and this week especially he’d been leaving their bedroom really early in the morning, so it was nice to see his covers not stir as he and Louie woke up. 

“He’s sleeping still,” Huey whispered to his youngest brother when his feet hit the ground. 

“He probably needs it then,” Louie stretched, voice just as soft. “Let’s get out of here so he can sleep a bit longer. Then maybe... maybe the three of us can go to Funso’s and talk about things. He did offer to let us spend his allowance.” 

“Really Louie?” Huey snorted, following his youngest brother out their bedroom door, “do you ever think of anything besides money?” Huey carefully shut the door behind himself making sure not to disturb his snoozing brother. 

“Occasionally,” Louie shrugged halfheartedly, lips curling into his signature smirk. “I like to think of treasure once in a while too.” 

“Well, nice to see you’re feeling better,” Huey teased as the two of them walked down the stairs to the main floor. There was already the usual sounds of everyone else in the manor awake and functioning, which meant breakfast would be soon. 

“Never better,” Louie grinned, stuffing his hands in his pocket, “no sniffles at all, and I’m sure I’ll pass uncle Donald’s temperature check too.” 

Huey laughed, stepping down the last step only to bump right into someone and start flailing as he lost his balance. 

“Oh!” Webby grinned, snatching Huey’s hands and steadying him before he could tumble backwards, “I was just on my way to your room, your uncles want to have everyone together for breakfast.” She looked between the two, then up and around them, “Where’s Dewey?” 

“Sleeping still,” Louie informed, glancing back up where they’d just come down. 

“Still?” Webby wrinkled her nose, “Dewey doesn’t usually sleep in. He’s always up super early with me. Do you think he caught Louie’s cold?” 

“Gee, I hope not,” Huey frowned, “I thought he was just tired, I didn’t think he could’ve been getting sick. We can go wake him up and see if we need to get uncle Donald upstairs with cold medicine.” 

Huey and Webby shared a look at each other, then both glanced upstairs before shifting their attention back to Louie protests. 

“We just came down from there though,” Louie complained as he turned on his heels and started back up the stairs as if he hadn’t just complained. Huey resisted the urge to laugh at Louie, and instead focused on Dewey. 

“We’re forgiving him,” Huey explained as they continued to step up, “we decided last night that we were being too hard on him. He made a mistake.” 

“A terrible and stupid mistake,” Louie added a couple steps slower. “In true Dewey fashion.” 

“Right,” Huey agreed with a roll of his eyes, “but still a mistake.” 

“I’m glad!” Webby chirped happily, eyes wide with excitement, “so everything will go back to normal then? No more awkwardly avoiding each other? No more not speaking to each other? No more me picking sides?” 

“They always do,” Huey admitted with a shy smile. Webby was practically bouncing up the stairs at this point. “We’re brothers, nothing can change that.” 

“Well,” Louie cleared his throat as the three of them hit the upstairs floor and continued on down the hallway, “to be fair, everything will be as normal as it can be in this house.” 

Huey paused for a split second, watching his youngest brother before he shrugged and continued on, “fair.” 

The three paused outside the triplet’s bedroom when they arrived, exchanging a glance before Huey cracked the door open enough to look in, “Dewey?” 

Dewey made not a sound, the room remained silent and calm. Huey frowned, opening the door wide enough for himself to slip in, which was followed by Louie pushing it open all the way and he and Webby trailing in behind him. 

“Dewey?” Huey continued, stepping up to the bunks and standing on his toes to see up at Dewey’s blue blankets. His brother didn’t move at all, he didn’t stir, and the blankets didn’t shift even an inch, “it’s time to get up, uncle Donald and uncle Scrooge want us all downstairs for breakfast.” 

“Yeah,” Louie started, “besides we forgive you. It’s time to put this behind us—after you tell us everything about mom and buy me a couple drinks at Funso’s this afternoon.” 

“Seriously?” Webby raised an eyebrow at the duckling in green. 

“What?” Louie tilted his head, raising his hands in mock surrender, “he said he would, I’m just taking him up on the offer.” 

“Dewey?” Huey placed his hand on Dewey’s leg... or, where his leg should be. The mere pressure from his hand touching the blanket caused the Dewey shaped blanket mound to collapse against the mattress, Huey’s hand following it down. 

Huey withdrew his hand like the blanket had burned him, pulling both hands to his chest to stare in horror at his little brother’s abandoned bed. 

“Where...” Louie sounded breathless, “where is he?” 

“I... I don’t know,” Huey blinked in shock, “I... I thought he was here. The blanket—it looked like—like--” 

“You guys don’t know where he is?” Webby asked quickly, “your uncle said he was up here with you.” 

“He-he was,” Huey blinked, still shocked and confused, “he was, or maybe he wasn’t. We thought he was. The blankets, we... I thought they were Dewey. He’s gone, Webby.” 

“Gone... where?” Webby asked slowly, “how do you know?” 

“We don’t leave the house without telling uncle Donald,” Louie whispered, staring at Dewey’s blue blankets, “we always follow that rule, have since we were little. We stretch it sometimes, lie about where we’re going, but... we always tell him we’re leaving. Its ingrained in our heads like ‘don’t take candy from strangers’ and ‘red means stop’. He made it clear that we had to tell him when we were going out, and for how long we’d be gone. He’s... he’s always been so worried about us.” 

“Uncle Donald would know where Dewey was,” Huey explained in a breathy voice, “he wouldn’t be sending you up here to get him, if he knew he was gone. Dewey didn’t tell him he was leaving... it means he’s gone without telling anyone. He’s left.” 

“Left?” Webby begged, anxiously grabbing fistfuls of Huey’s shirt, “left where?” 

“I don’t... I don’t know.” 

“Maybe he’s in the manor somewhere?” Webby suggested, she released Huey’s shirt and stepped towards the door, “how do you know he’s gone?” 

“The blankets were like that when we woke up,” Huey whispered, “I know. I remember, it was only five minutes ago. He was already gone when we woke up.” 

“Uncle Donald hasn’t seen him,” Louie blinked slowly, voice nervous, “we always say good morning to uncle Donald. It’s routine, a... a check in of sorts. Dewey didn’t. He’s not here, and uncle Donald hasn’t seen him.” 

“Come on, there has to be... there’s gotta be--” Webby searched around the room for a clue, or something to prove this was a prank, or perhaps just Dewey who she hoped to find hiding in a corner. Huey watched her eyes land on their desk, and her eyes widened, “or... or maybe you’re right.” 

“That was fast,” Louie wrinkled his nose, eyes searching Webby, “what changed your mind?” 

“He left the crystal ball from the goddess Selene,” Webby explained, taking two steps towards the desk and bending down to be eye level with a glass ball. Huey’s eyes fell to the crystal ball that Dewey had held onto like a lifeline. It was sat protected, squared in on all sides by four erasers, displayed for the room. A display that hadn’t been there the night before. “He’s barely put it down since she gave it to him, he’s always had it on him, or close to him,” Webby informed in a whisper. 

“He left the crystal ball of mom?” Louie asked in a broken voice, moving to crouch beside Webby and inspect the ball. He trailed a feather like touch along the surface of the ball before turning his watery eyes to his older brother, “w-why would he do that, Huey?” 

“I don’t know,” Huey whimpered, “I... don’t know. We have to tell uncle Donald, and uncle Scrooge. We have to find Dewey. He... he left. We have to find him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this update! Comments are greatly appreciated, as are kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions!
> 
> I don't know when the next chapter will be, since I'm moving in like 3 days and everything will be (and is now too) super hectic. This pandemic has made everything on that front real hard, so I'm not sure when I'll have time to write again. 
> 
> Have something you wanna see happen in this fic? Leave me a comment and I'll try to make it happen! :3
> 
> See you next update!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for the wait, things have been kinda bad around here, but I wanted to get this chapter out for you guys. It's a bit shorter than the other two chapters, but it was really just a filler chapter to bring us to the next part which is where I actually have something planned. 
> 
> Not sure if I'll have any time this month to write anymore, since there's been a death in the family (and everything relating to that), there are three birthdays in my family this month (mine too :3), Canadian Thanksgiving as well as Halloween. Apologies in advance, but I will keep writing this! Next update will be early November at the latest, I promise!

To be fair, Dewey probably should’ve planned a bit more. In the grand scheme of the things. He had no idea what he was doing. He had no plan—just the clothes on his back, and his backpack. 

He’d left the manor without telling anyone. No one knew where he was—which, he supposed, was essentially what running away was. But now, in the morning, it still felt wrong. He should be having breakfast with his family right now, listening to Huey ramble about boring things, and listening to Louie annoy uncle Scrooge about money. 

But he was here, and he was hungry. 

The problem was, Dewey had about twenty-three dollars on him, the twenty from his allowance and the three in coins from his piggy bank. There were a couple more coins, pennies and nickels, but those didn’t really amount to anything more than a few cents. So, twenty-three dollars, and then some. 

Besides, odd change like that was virtually useless unless he planned on living off coin candy machines, like the ones outside the supermarket which... well, it could definitely be a last resort meal. Probably. 

Now, Dewey had never been good at math, he’d done a lot of cheating off Huey’s paper with Louie, but he knew that his twenty dollars wasn’t going to last long. Not when four drinks at Funso’s ate up that whole twenty dollars. Well, four drinks and about five dollars' worth of token exchange. 

On an unrelated note, twenty dollars' worth of Funso’s soda really makes you have to pee, and he would never take a dare from Louie again about drinking so much soda. It was totally a waste of money when he could’ve been spending all of his allowance on token exchange. Lesson learned on that one. 

His point was that everything was expensive. And he had twenty-three dollars and an unknown amount of cents to live off for the rest of his life. 

And he planned to live a long time, so twenty-three dollars (and cents) wouldn’t last him his whole life. 

Unless he got a job or something, but who would hire him? He was only eleven years old—could anyone even hire him? Wasn’t that against the law or something? How was an eleven-year-old supposed to make it in the world if it was against the law to be hired by anyone? 

He’d really just have to make do with his twenty-three dollars. 

Or maybe he could do street work. Uncle Scrooge had gone on and on about his days shining shoes for money. And look at him now, he’s a millionaire. Maybe Dewey could do that too. It didn’t sound that hard, well, besides the getting dirty and having to clean people’s shoes part. 

That sounded kinda gross. But he’d do it if he had too. A duckling’s gotta make a living somehow. 

Dewey hadn’t really gone anywhere after leaving the manor. He’d really just walked around town until the sun came up. 

There was nowhere to go. 

He’d thought about going to Launchpad’s place, and had even started walking in the direction, but his family totally would’ve looked for him there. Launchpad was one of his best friends after all. 

Anyways, if they were looking for him, Launchpad would be the first call uncle Scrooge made. If Dewey left the house without anyone, and wasn’t at Funso’s, it was safe to assume he’d made his way to Launchpad’s home. 

Everywhere Dewey thought about heading, he knew his family could find him there. They weren’t dumb, his whole family was actually very clever, all in their own ways. So, it wouldn’t be long until he was found out if he gave into the temptation of a bed and some food from friends. 

That is... if his family was even looking for him. If they’d even noticed he was gone. Would they notice? He liked to think they would, that they’d be upset a bit and maybe even miss him, but recently he wasn’t too sure about it anymore. 

No one had said anything when he barely spoke for a couple days. No one had said anything when he silently refused to eat at meal time. No one barely noticed his existence since they’d come home from Castle McDuck—so Dewey wasn’t... he wasn’t holding his breath that they’d notice he was gone. 

But he still wasn’t going to risk going somewhere familiar where everyone knew him, because that would just be stupid. He was trying to stay as a runaway, not be returned home right away. 

He wasn’t going to be predictable. He wasn’t going to be found and return to a home where he’d be forgotten and ignored. Where the two people who know him best, and who have been by his side since hatching—barely even look in his direction. 

He was alone in this. That’s how it had to be. 

If he wanted to make this running away thing work, he needed to be alone. 

He could make it work. 

He just had to figure out how.

* * *

From the moment that Huey, Louie and Webby even breathed a word of the second oldest ducking triplet being missing, uncle Donald had lost it. He was instantly asking questions, shooting them out far faster than Huey or Louie could manage to answer. 

Huey wasn’t even really sure that their uncle was still speaking English with how fast he was speaking. But still, he and Louie tried their hardest to answer anything they understood. If they wanted Dewey found, they needed to tell the adults everything they knew. 

Uncle Scrooge, in turn, had gotten right on the phone and was calling just about everyone. McDuck Enterprises, Launchpad, Doctor Gearloose, Fenton, and a whole bunch of other people to see if any of them had seen Dewey, and to call him or Donald if they happen to find Dewey. 

Uncle Donald had wanted to call the police too, but uncle Scrooge had talked him out of it. Huey wasn’t sure they needed the police just yet, not when they haven’t gone out to search by themselves yet. Dewey could be anywhere really, the park, or Funso’s, or, heck, he really could be hiding away somewhere in the manor. 

They didn’t know. 

But Huey was almost certain his brother was gone. That he’d slipped out in the middle of the night without either he, or Louie noticing. 

And it made him feel like an awful older brother. That he hadn’t noticed. That Dewey had even left in the first place. He couldn’t help but feel that it was his fault that Dewey left. Because they’d ignored him, and had given him the silent treatment for over a week. 

They’d drawn it out too long. He and Louie. They could see Dewey suffering, Dewey getting quieter, Dewey’s effort to fix everything plummeting, but they’d still chosen to ignore him. 

Looking back now, seeing all the clues and tells to Dewey’s actions and words—it was all there. They’d basically watched their brother break, and they’d been too self-centered around their own anger and hurt at Dewey to notice Dewey’s own. 

Huey was so mad at himself—if they’d just listened to uncle Donald and Webby and patched things up with Dewey days ago, this wouldn’t have happened. They’d be having family breakfast, and Dewey would be telling stupid jokes. Then maybe the four of them, he, Dewey, Louie and Webby, could’ve worked on finding more out about mom. 

But they hadn’t. 

They’d been stubborn, and dumb, and childish, and now their brother was gone. Dewey was gone from the manor, and no one knew where he was. It was an oldest brother’s worst nightmare. He’d lost one of his little brothers, and he’d been the reason for it. 

“No use sitting around when there’s work ta be done,” uncle Scrooge chided everyone, voice softer than usual. It was almost like their great uncle was faking his calm and collected air, like he was panicking on the inside, just like everyone else, but felt like he had to be the strong one. It was a very uncle Scrooge thing to do, “the lad could be here still, we’ll find ‘im.” 

“He’s right,” uncle Donald drew his attention away from the wall he’d be staring at since falling into a stunned silence after firing questions at his remaining nephews, “Dewey could be in the manor somewhere, we should look around here before we start looking outside. We’ll clear the manor before we get the police involved.” 

“We should split up,” Webby slid off her seat, “half of us look upstairs and half of us downstairs. We’ll cover more ground.” 

“Louie and I’ll take upstairs, you guys look down here. There’s more ground to cover down here,” Huey decided, sliding off his chair as well. Louie followed his actions, slipping off his own to follow his brother up the stairs. 

They didn’t wait for either uncle or Webby to reply before taking off up the stairs. 

Huey led the way into their bedroom first, and Louie followed closely behind, the older duckling knew his little brother didn’t plan on going very far without him, which in this case, Huey didn’t mind at all. He’d already lost one brother, he wasn’t about to lose his other. 

“Dewey?” Huey called halfheartedly, knowing that his brother wasn’t here, but still hopeful and praying he’d just return the call and this whole thing would be over. 

Dewey didn’t return the shout though, just as Huey expected. Huey exchanged a sour look with his brother before they both got to work trying to locate their other brother. Anything would be helpful right now. So, they searched their room. 

“His backpack is gone,” Louie informed quietly, standing in their closet doorway, “so are some of his clothes.” 

“Yeah,” Huey sighed, pushing Dewey’s drawers back in, “a pair of his pajamas are gone too.” 

“He packed,” Louie whispered, “he packed to leave us. He planned this.” 

“Looks like it,” Huey agreed regretfully. “I can’t believe it. Running away? Maybe if it was all three of us. I could see it, but... just Dewey? Running away from us too?” 

“We really messed up,” Louie’s voice cracked, “we made him run away. He... he stopped talking to us, and we didn’t even try to talk to him. Do you know how much that would suck?” 

“I can’t even imagine,” Huey swallowed, suddenly feeling ill. They really had been awful brothers the last few days. “C’mon, let’s keep looking around. Maybe... Maybe he’s really here somewhere.” 

“Maybe,” Louie sighed. They both knew Dewey wasn’t. He was gone, he’d packed a bag and left. He wasn’t hiding somewhere in the manor, and they both knew it. 

They searched around still, looking through their bedroom for anything else that could’ve left with their brother, as well as anything that could possibly give them an indication of where Dewey was going too. 

Huey was searching through the desk and Louie was pulling Dewey’s bed apart. Huey only looked over at Louie when his youngest brother gave a sad sigh. Huey turned, and when he did, he saw Louie sitting on his bottom bunk with a cellphone in his hand. 

A cell phone that wasn’t his, since both Louie and Huey’s phones were charging on their desk still. 

It was Dewey’s. 

“He really did leave,” Louie whispered, unlocking the phone easily. “He wouldn’t leave his phone. But he couldn’t have been taken because he packed. It wasn’t an in the moment thing...” 

“It’s so we can’t track him,” Huey frowned, “he left it so we can’t find him. He really thought this through. It’s not like Dewey. He... he must’ve been thinking about this for a while.” 

“Maybe even a week,” Louie’s eyes fell down to the device in his hands. “I feel awful, Huey.” 

“Yeah,” Huey swallowed, moving to sit beside his brother, “I do too. I wish he’d just come home. He made a mistake, and then we made a mistake too. But our mistake chased him away.” 

“Webby was right,” Louie continued softly, “I can’t stop thinking about it. About how I’d feel if you guys stopped talking to me over something dumb like a secret about mom. I’d lose my mind, Huey. We did it to him.” 

“Look,” Huey stood up, “we’ll find him, alright? We’ll find him, and we’ll apologize, and tell him we forgive him for keeping a secret from us and we can hope he’ll forgive us too because we were really awful to him. Then we can all forget this even happened, right? He made his mistake, and we made ours. We’ll get him back.” 

“We’ll find him,” Louie repeated, but he didn’t sound very hopeful, “I just hope he’s okay.” 

“He... he will be.” Huey forced himself to say for Louie’s sake, “he will be, and we’ll make sure of it.” 

Neither said anything for a second, both just staring down at the blue-cased phone in Louie’s hands. 

“Come on,” Huey finally sighed, “let’s keep looking up here and then report back to uncle Donald. We will find him, Lou, I promise.” 

“Right,” Louie slipped off the bed, “yeah, sure. We’ll find him.” 

Not really the optimism he was looking for, but it would do.

* * *

They spent that whole first day looking for Dewey, but had no luck. He was nowhere to be found in the manor, and after having uncle Scrooge and Mrs. Beakley looking through the video footage of the manor’s security cameras, they found footage of Dewey leaving the manor at just after midnight. 

That meant he’d been missing for nearly seventeen hours as of dinner time that evening. It had taken a decent percent of that day to clear the manor, as well as to look through the footage of the security camera. 

Uncle Donald, uncle Scrooge, Mrs. Beakley and even Launchpad had been out late looking for Dewey, but Huey, Louie and Webby had been made to return when it started getting dark outside. They feared that another of their children would go missing, and Huey couldn’t blame them. 

They were all just as worried as he and Louie were, but it was different because he was just their nephew. Dewey was basically a part of he and Louie, they’d always been close. They’d always had to rely on each other. They knew one another better than they knew themselves, and it was devastating that they couldn’t find him. 

It was like a piece of himself had left with Dewey that night. 

Towards dinner time was when uncle Donald had finally called the police. They’d held out until they knew for sure Dewey had left the manor and was actually alone out in the world. He and uncle Scrooge had made that decision when Huey and Louie informed them that they were sure Dewey had run away, as well as when the video of Dewey leaving was found. Louie had handed Dewey’s phone over and uncle Donald had almost broken it in his tight grip. 

Dewey was officially a missing person. Officers came around the manor and talked with everyone, took a picture of Dewey from uncle Donald’s phone and promised to keep an eye out and put officers on the case of locating him. 

Officer Cabrera and her partner had been really nice. She’d assured Huey and Louie that she’d work her hardest to bring Dewey home, and had given uncle Donald and uncle Scrooge a sad, reassuring smile before leaving. 

Despite it being hours passed their bedtime, Huey, Louie and Webby were all wide awake when midnight rolled around once more. It had been twenty-four hours since Dewey had snuck out with his blue backpack. Since he’d ran away from home and his family. 

It didn’t feel right trying to sleep without Dewey. 

In the end, it had been him, Louie and Webby all passed out on the couch together with uncle Scrooge sitting with them and keeping an eye on them. Uncle Donald had refused to sit down, insisting that he’d keep looking for Dewey, and Mrs. Beakley had gone with him, leaving Webby in uncle Scrooge’s hands as well. 

It sucked, Huey decided. He felt like a terrible brother, and he was so, so sorry for hurting Dewey, even if it hadn’t been intentional... just like how Dewey had unintentionally hurt him and Louie. 

But Dewey had been alone on his side of things. Huey had Louie still, so he wasn’t really alone—but he still felt alone without Dewey here too. He felt... uncomplete. Like a part of him was missing, which, technically, one was. The Duck triplets were a whole, and it just didn’t feel right when there was only two of them here. 

He missed his brother.

* * *

At two days and one full night (not counting the night he left home) of living on the streets, Dewey had officially run out of granola bars. There weren’t going to last long, he’d known, not when he was eating one for breakfast, one for lunch and one for dinner too. He was sick of granola bars anyways. 

Sick of granola bars and starving for something different and filling to eat. 

He’d been very fortunate with water though, cafes and fast-food places would give him cups of water for free, so he was very hydrated—but what he really wanted was a soda. A cool, bubbling soda from Funso’s. 

It had been practically forever at this point—and he did still have all his twenty-three dollars. He deserved a treat—and that treat just so happened to be a hot dog combo from Funso’s. 

It was only five dollars after all. He could afford it and still have eighteen dollars for the rest of his life. 

Besides, he’d had to sleep on the street last night—well, sleep is not exactly what he did, but the sentiment was there. He’d more or less drift off for a couple minutes and then snap awake when anything moved, or he heard anything. Turns out running away is not at all like camping. 

A bit scarier. He'd still managed to kinda sleep though, so that was a win.

Now though, not it was hotdog time, and Dewey couldn't be more excited. He had been like, a week and a half since he'd been to Funso's last-- and maybe he could even spend a dollar or two and play a couple games before he left? Where's the harm in that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, and I hope to see you all at the next chapter! 
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated, and thank you so much to anyone who has left me a comment! I love seeing them! :D

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit based on me remembering when my brother and I were young, we planned running away one day when our parents were arguing one afternoon. Didn't go to plan as we marched to the door with bags packed with toys and informed our parents we were leaving. 
> 
> Running away is a thought that I think crosses most children's mind at some point or another. Poor Dewey though. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks so much if you've made it this far! I'll be working on the next update diligently! Comments, Kudos, Subs and Bookmarks are all very much appreciated!


End file.
